My Bloody Valentine
by SevenOverThree
Summary: She didn't expect to find him again; he was supposed to be long gone. So why, of all places, did she find Johnny performing at a nearby concert? And she didn't at all expect to find herself saving him from a man Johnny claims should be long dead.
1. My Bloody Valentine

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. Not even this story idea, that belongs to 'Demon Eyes Glow Blood Red'.

The song 'My Bloody Valentine' is copywrite of Good Charlotte

**Authors Note:** I think I should first point out that this story does not belong to me – it is merely a rewrite of 'Demon Eyes Glow Blood Red' story, 'My Bloody Valentine'. I read it, liked it, and decided to turn it into something better than before. An upgrade, if you will.

I did indeed get Demon's permission to do this, so any flames given in that regard will be used to help heat my sick Betta fish's tank.

Have fun reading, and Demon, I hope I've done your story good.

* * *

It was late when Tenna first showed up at Devi's house. As per usual, she burst through the door, not caring that it wasn't her house, that Devi might actually be sleeping tonight. Fortunately, the girl in question wasn't asleep – she was occupied with a painting she'd gotten an idea for after doodling in her notebook earlier that day.

The dark-skinned female squealed as she closed in on her friend, dancing around her while Devi calmly ignored her hyperactive friend.

"Devi! Devi, look what I managed to get!" She stuck a clenched hand in Devi's face, who pulled back a little at the rather sudden motion. "They were the last ones!" Devi raised an eyebrow, staring at the items her friend was talking about. In Tenna's hand was what appeared to be a pair of mildly crumpled concert tickets.

"And they are?" She asked, putting her paintbrush down only because with Tenna practically in front of her, she could no longer see her easel. Tenna groaned in disbelief.

"Concert tickets! To the Homicidal Maniac concert! This guy _always_ sells out – I've _never_ gotten tickets for him before, I've always had to settle for his albums." Tenna grabbed her friends arm, pulling towards the still-open door.

"Ten, I _don't want to go_." The girl shook her head.

"I don't care! This guy is an awesome singer, and need I remind you, you still have a lot of getting out to do. You _said_ you killed that doll thing, so why are you still moping about inside? Besides, I bought _two_ tickets, and I don't want to go knowing I _wasted_ sixty bucks." Devi didn't bother resisting. Tenna was stronger then she looked, and besides, the girl had a point - she _had_ beaten Sickness, so why was she acting like the demon creature was still there, hovering over her shoulder and alienating her from society? She used to _love_ going out.

'_But that was before _Johnny_ happened._' She thought. Johnny had tried to kill her, and had quickly ruined Devi's appetite for leaving her house. After that, Sickness had ruined whatever was left, practically turning Devi into a shut-in. She supposed the reason why she didn't want to go out with Tenna anymore was because of a residual fear that Johnny would come back to finish what he'd started, ignoring the fact that the killings had lowered to almost nil over the past few months. But with a concert name like ' Homicidal Maniac', it was no wonder she wanted to stay inside.

'_Johnny wouldn't sing_.' She reassured herself. '_He'd sooner wear pink then take up singing_.' Devi took in a breath, exhaling quietly before speaking.

"Fine. But I am _not_ boosting you up on my shoulders so you can scream how much you love him." Last time she'd done that for Tenna, she'd gotten smushed, and her back had been sore for days. Tenna grinned.

"Deal. Now, come on! It's starting soon!" Devi reeled internally about this fact, quietly following her dark-skinned friend to her car.

Devi couldn't exactly remember why she'd stopped letting Tenna drive, so didn't really care much when the girl darted behind the wheel, but found herself quite reassured as to why she -Devi- had done all the driving for so long – Tenna drove like a maniac.

They were speeding down the street like they'd stolen a Camaro, and Devi wouldn't have been surprised if the police started chasing them down. But the ride was, for the most part, surprisingly quiet.

When they reached the stadium, Devi groaned. It was packed with screaming fan-girls, and the odd fan-_boy_. She should have expected this; it was a sold-out concert, of _course_ everything she hated about people would conglomerate here. Worse then that was the smell of it all: a rank mixture of over-applied perfumes, bad cologne, and greasy artificial foods. She almost wanted to puke.

"Ten, I think... I think I'll stay with the car... Y'know... make sure it doesn't get stolen?" Tenna wouldn't have any of it, and grabbed Devi's arm again as she headed inside, into the stadium Devi would've given her most prized paintings to avoid.

"You're coming with me Devi. You sitting with the car will not use this ticket; which in turn will not make me feel better about having wasted sixty bucks!" Devi sighed.

"There's no stopping you, is there?" Tenna turned, grinning happily.

"Nope!"

As it turned out, the seats Tenna had managed to procure were almost at the front, which surprised Devi a little. Wouldn't the last two seats available be the worst? This concerned Devi a bit. That would mean that Tenna had bought the tickets somewhere other than the box office.

Time seemed to pass slowly, occupied solely by the mumbling of too-young hormone-crazed teens and their friends, arguing silently about who the bigger fan was. Devi was sorely tempted to walk out, but the knew that doing so would upset Tenna. She'd come this far, she could handle an evening of squealing fan-girls; she'd had to endure worse things at NERVE and Dragon Books. Besides, what were the odds that Johnny C, hater of most if not all forms of socialization, would've taken up singing?

Then, a fat man walked onto the stage from some unseen room off to the side. He held a microphone in his hands and was grinning, most likely at the amount of people having shown up. He took in a breath, and began to speak.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome your favorite singer -" Devi strained to hear the name, but at 'welcome', the crowd went wild, their cries of joy drowning out the name of whoever was now walking on stage, looking none too impressed. In fact, judging by his posture, he looked as though he wanted to be anywhere but the concert hall. Devi scoffed, sympathizing with him.

The man was scrawny, skinny almost to the point of looking anorexic, with only just enough body mass on him to convince her otherwise. He wore almost all black, and had a messy mop of black hair sticking out at all angles, making him look like he'd gotten out of bed and come straight here.  
The closer he got to center stage, the more depressed he seemed to become, and Devi grinned a little, knowing how he must be feeling.

"Thanks..." The singer snatched the microphone from the fat man, his 'thank you' leaking into it and echoing just barely above the wild crowd of teens.  
The lights began to dim, and thankfully, the crowd settled down as the room darkened, fake but convincing sounds of thunder and rain beginning to echo through the concert hall. Guitar started up, followed closely by some soft chords, and the man began to sing.

"_Oh my love, please don't cry – I'll wash my bloody hands and we'll start a new life_." Despite singing well, he was glaring out at the crowd, looking absolutely malicious. Devi wondered vaguely why the crowd seemed to love this kind of treatment, but shook the thought off as she enjoyed the music. It was, despite the dark lyrics, a rather upbeat song.

"_I ripped out his throat, and called you on the telephone to take off my disguise just in time to hear you cry when you_..." He paused for barely a moment, taking a breath before continuing to sing, still sweeping his angry glare across the crowd. "_You mourn the death of your bloody valentine... The night he died; you mourn the death of your bloody valentine one last time_..." The singer seemed to deflate a little bit, slumping a little bit as he took a step away from the edge of the stage.

"_Singin'; oh, my love, please don't cry - I'll wash my bloody hands and we'll start a new life. I don't know much at all, I don't know wrong from right, all I know is that I love you tonight_." Devi turned to Tenna, about to tell the girl that she had been right – this man was indeed a good singer. He looked like he could use a good cheering up, but was certainly good at what he did. Tenna however, was enraptured in dancing on the spot, much like the thousands of other fans in the room.

"_There was police and flashing lights, the rain came down so hard that night and the headlines read; 'A lover died'. No tell-tale heart was left to find when you_..._ You mourn the death of your bloody valentine_..._ The night he died; you mourn the death of your bloody valentine one last time_." Devi, dancing contentedly now alongside her friend, took a glance at the singer. He still looked deflated, and was sweeping his gaze across the crowd still, but had his head aimed more or less at the stage floor.

"_Singin'; oh, my love, please don't cry - I'll wash my bloody hands and we'll start a new life. I don't know much at all, I don't know wrong from right, all I know is that I love you tonight_." The music slowed, and again sounds of thunder and rain rolled across the room; fake, but convincing.

"_Tonight_..." Then, the man's gaze locked with Devi's, hazel brown eyes looking into emerald green. Devi's breath hitched in her throat – she knew those eyes. Innocent-looking eyes betraying just a hint of true homicidal insanity. The song started up again, and the singer held for just a moment longer then he was supposed to before he blinked distractedly, and began singing once more.

"_He dropped you off, I followed him home, then I_..._ I stood outside his bedroom window. Standing over him, he begged me not to do what I knew I had to do cause I'm so in love with you_." He turned his gaze elsewhere in the crowd, and Devi began immediately telling herself that it must have been her eyes playing tricks on her, that it wasn't _him_ standing up there, singing to a gigantic group of everyone he normally would have hated to even make eye contact with a few months earlier.

"_Oh, my love, please don't cry - I'll wash my bloody hands and we'll start a new life. I don't know much at all, I don't know wrong from right, all I know is that I love you tonight, tonight_!" The song ended on the sound of violins and falling rain, but the quiet lasted barely a moment before the crowd regained it's voice and began to scream again. The fat man from before came back on stage, the man who Devi was now sure was Johnny throwing the mic at him before walking away. He took a glance at Devi, staring with a teary-eyed gaze, talking swiftly to himself as he stalked quickly toward the side room from before.

"She came – she mustn't remember me then. Alright, keep singing, keep out of her life, keep her happy. I can't fix us." Devi was certain she was the only one who heard him.


	2. Healing the Killer

**Disclaimer:** JtHM is copyright Jhonen 'Jiggy' Vasquez. The original idea for 'My Bloody Valentine' is copyright 'Demon Eyes Glow Blood Red'.

**Authors Note:** It saddens me to see no reviews for this aside from Demoneyes. However, several people putting this fic under 'alert' tells me more people than I think are interested in this. Either way, my muse has been in overdrive since taking up this story – I've come up with a few bases for a long-term plotline for this fic, so by the time all previously-existing chapters have been rewritten, I'll probably have isolated the plotline. Meaning, soon there should be a proper summary up.

Happy reading!

* * *

Devi stared at Johnny as he disappeared off-stage, continuing to stare in the direction he'd gone even after he was no longer there. The fat man was grinning, looking out over the crowd of fans still cheering.

"Yes, Yes, I know you love him! I'm sure Johnny C loves you too! He'll be back in a few minutes!" As the man finished speaking, the reality of it all finally sank in; _Johnny_ was on stage. The man who'd tried to kill her was barely a few meters away from her, and she'd willingly come this close to him. Devi began to shake, and grabbed Tenna's shirt, who protested a little at the rough treatment, but fell fell quiet when Devi began to speak.

"We _have_ to get out of here, now!" Tenna frowned, obviously upset.

"What, why? Me and Spooky were having such a great time!" Devi gave her friend a pleading look.

"Tenna, please! I'll explain on the way home!" Sighing in displeasure, Tenna looked Devi in the eyes.

"Fine. You do seem pretty scared. But you _so_ owe me for this." Devi was the one doing the pulling this time, weaving out of the crowd and out the door. Though the lot was packed with cars, it took no time to find theirs, and after shoving Tenna into the drivers seat, she jumped into the passenger seat, waiting for Tenna to start the car and drive them both home. But the girl just sat there, staring at her. "What was it? I'm not starting the car until you tell me what's wrong."

"Wha-what? But Tenna-!" Tenna shook her head, folding her arms across her chest defiantly.

"Tell me." Devi struggled for a retort, but when she found none, she sighed.

"Fine... I-I know him. He was the guy that... the one from the bookstore, remember? The one who tried to... to kill me." Tenna squealed in delight.

" _What_! Wow, Devi, how'd you _get_ a guy like that? He's _hot_!" Devi glared at her dark-skinned friend.

"Tenna, that's not the point! Remember the whole thing about my life and him trying to _end_ it?"

"Oh, oh yeah... Well, maybe he's _changed_ Dev. And are you sure it was even _him_?" Devi nodded.

"_Definitely_. 'A'; he's just a _little bit_ unique. There are _very_ few people in this town named 'Johnny C' that look as dark as him. 'B', During the song, we locked eyes. I instantly knew it was him, and he instantly knew it was me. Didn't you notice he lagged a bit on that one line? That was when he saw me." Tenna nodded.

"That's a good point. Devi, relax. How about we just stay here? We can sit in the safety of the car and listen to the concert from here." Devi took in a breath in attempts to calm herself down some more.

"Fine..." A few more minutes of silence, and the fat man began to speak again. His voice sounded echoed from out in the car, an effect of the microphone and how loud it was.

"Here he is, the man you love so much, Johhhhhaaaaahh-!" Both girls sat up straight as screams began to erupt from inside the stadium, fans beginning to run away from whatever was inside. The two friends got out of the car, Devi holding onto her door as she stared at the stadium.

Devi was almost sure she knew what had happened. But then, a voice came over the speakers, sounding as though he was trying hard not to speak into the microphone, but failing. The speakers voice was muffled, changing pitch and clarity – he was likely holding the microphone and waving it around.

"...-you take one more step near me, you bastard! I refuse to let you look for her!" Devi knew who the speaker was now – it was Johnny. He sounded strangely panicked though, as though he was facing someone who scared him.

"I already know she's out there!" This new voice was one Devi didn't recognize.

"_You didn't kill her_?"He growled at the person.

"Oh, no. Not yet. But once I finish _you_ off, her and her crazy friend with the little skeleton doll will be next." Devi turned to look at her friend, who was staring back, terrified – she could almost feel Tenna's heart stopping.

By now, the lot was empty of people, though many people had chosen to abandon their cars in the run for their lives. Devi could safely assume that the same could be said for the inside of the stadium, that it was empty.

"_I_ killed you, Jimmy. Not them! Don't kill people that matter to me; take me and go have your fun on people you _don't_ know!Just leave her out of this!" The voice -Jimmy, Johnny had called him- laughed.

"Oh, oh no. Killing people I know is _much_ more fun."

"Sick bastard!" Johnny yelled out. Jimmy chuckled.

"Just like you."

"No, no! I killed people I _didn't_ know, people that deserved it, so that way people I _did_ know wouldn't get hurt by that damned wall! I'm so goddamn fucked up, God didn't want me! And Senior Diablo sent me back here! You think I _enjoy_ my life? I don't! I don't I don't _I don't_! Stop trying to be me! _STOP_!" Devi felt a little pang in her heart for the man, but quickly pushed it away – Johnny was a murderer. He didn't deserve pity, right?

"But I love the way you are. I want to be you."

"NO! YOU DON'T! JUST GO BACK TO HELL!" Johnny screamed. "STOP!"

"See. I can't stand it when people hurt themselves either, you are such a pleasant person, I'll put you out of your misery."

"Stop...Jimmy...STOP!"

"No! Your blood will go nicely on my wall..." Jimmy began to chuckle lightly, and a cry of pain brought Devi back to reality – this 'Jimmy' person was going to kill Johnny. And as much as Devi wanted Johnny gone, it seemed this new man was much more unstable. While Johnny killed those who, according to him, 'deserved' it, Jimmy just wanted to kill. She sighed, believing she was going to regret her next decision, before taking off towards the doors leading inside the building.

Once she was inside, the image that greeted her was of Johnny, laying keeled over on the ground with a knife buried in his side, the man that must have been Jimmy standing over him, ready to strike with a second knife. Bolting forward, she tackled him, wrestling the blade from his grip as she smashed his head into the tiled floor in a similar fashion as she'd done to Johnny back when.

"D-devi?" She heard Johnny mutter. He sounded disbelieving, as though he didn't expect her to be there. Understandable. However, she ignored him for the time being, taking the knife now in her grip and holding it against Jimmy's throat. The man was disoriented, but aware enough of his plight to not move.

"Run, Johnny!" She yelled at him, not looking away from the stunned male she was pinning to the floor. Johnny grunted as he attempted to move, but with the blade in his side, he couldn't move more than a few inches without feeling pain.

"I... I can't." Devi took a second to gaze back at him – and Jimmy took the chance to push her off. She stumbled backwards, falling to the floor as Jimmy closed in on her, looking angry. However, he had forgotten about Johnny for the time being, and as he walked closer to Devi, Johnny took the opportunity to kick the mans legs out from under him. Devi, mind running in a panicked state, jumped forward and stabbed the blade still in her hands through her attackers left shoulder. But the minute she had completed the action, her mind realized just what she had done.

"I just... stabbed a man." Johnny carefully began to scoot over to the fallen man, gripping the hilt of the blade sitting in his enemies shoulder. He pulled it out, and situated it over the mans heart, gazing over at Devi pityingly.

"It... gets easier." He turned back to Jimmy, his face filled with hate, loathing and anger. "I've told you once... you pile of _shit_ – you want to be me?" His eyes narrowed and his fist tightened around the dagger. "Well I don't... like myself much." He pushed it down, and a horrible squelching noise was heard, accompanied by a scream that lingered only for a second before fading out of existence. Jimmy was dead.

Johnny shifted his gaze over to Devi, still panting, but smiling a little now. "Devi... Th-thank you. Thank you..." His eyes rolled upwards, and he collapsed to the ground. Devi went quickly over to him, a little worried that the man had spontaneously died.

"Johnny? Johnny! Wake up!" No response. But he was breathing, so that was a good sign. Or at least, he was breathing _for now_. The knife was still in his side, so he was still bleeding. And Johnny was skinny enough as it was, blood loss was not something she'd wager was a good thing for an anorexicly skinny man. Devi ran over to the doors, surprised to see Tenna standing near the entrance, seemingly too terrified to have risked going inside. But, at seeing the girl, Tenna grinned, relieved at the sight of her friend in mostly-alright condition.

"Devi, you're alright!" Devi let out a breath she hadn't been aware of holding, running a hand through her hair as she turned back to Johnny, her half-smile fading.

"For the most part. But _he_ isn't." Tenna looked past Devi, gazing over her shoulder at the two men beyond. Her expression turned to a nervous, mild fear.

"Are they... d-dead?"

"That guy is." Devi pointed at Jimmy, walking over to the man she had saved -who had subsequently saved _her_- "But Johnny's hurt. He needs help." Devi began slipping her hands beneath the unconscious man. "Go start the car – I've got this." From the corner of her vision, Devi could see Tenna shaking. Devi recalled vaguely that she had never once seen Tenna scared before.

Standing up slowly, she held Johnny in her arms, bridal-style. But as she positioned him so that she wouldn't be moving the knife, she realized she was coated in blood, not sure whether it was Jimmy's, or Johnny's. What scared her was that she was rather indifferent to the sight of blood coating her front. Shouldn't so much blood coating her be scaring her?

She jogged over to the car, where Tenna was standing by the back seats, holding the door open for her slowly moving friend. She helped Devi ease the man into the back seat, hooking up the seat-belts in such a way that he wouldn't go flying if they hit something, but also so they wouldn't be digging him into a strange position.

The drive was silent – neither girl made a sound. The radio wasn't on either, making the only audible noise that of Johnny's raspy breathing. Devi was debating the idea of dropping the man off at a hospital and leaving him, but knowing his luck, they'd only be more stupid people, and would do something wrong so as to upset Johnny and push him into a rampage. Being the indirect cause of a hospital murder spree was the last thing she wanted on her conscience.

When they finally got to Devi's apartment, Johnny was shivering lightly, a sign she needed to fix him up, or else.

"Hey..." Tenna said softly, turning to face her friend. "You think you're gonna need help getting him up there?" Devi thought for a moment. Her apartment was on the top floor, and she'd need help opening her door, at the very least.

"Y-yeah." With Tenna's help, Johnny was slowly eased out from his spot in the back seats of the car, and Devi gave her friend a apologetic look when the two girls saw the blood spatters staining her seats. "I swear I'll pay for it." Tenna gave her a halfhearted smirk.

"You'd better." But there was little emotion in it – the scene at the concert hall had drained both girls energy far below their normal levels. For once, Tenna was subdued, and seemed... deflated, almost. Devi hoped that Tenna would recover, and she probably would – Tenna had a habit of bouncing back quick.

Tenna opened all the doors for Devi as she walked through the building, Johnny held in her arms like some sort of too-tall child.

At Devi's own door, she could see that her friends hands were shaking. She'd obviously been shaken up by the concert attack. Finally, she gets the door open, and moves aside to let Devi in. Her face is apologetic

"Sorry Dev, but I gotta go. My new place locks up in two hours and I have some running I need to do." Devi smiled tiredly.

"It's okay. Just be careful, alright?"

"I will. See you tomorrow Devi." Tenna closed the door behind her, and Devi listened to the hurried footsteps until they faded out of earshot, placing Johnny down on her couch as she did.

"God, Johnny..." She muttered, kneeling down in front of the gently shivering man. "What have you gotten yourself into now?" Johnny mumbled something, evidently asleep. It was kind of cute, Devi realized. Asleep, Johnny lost the intimidating aura he usually had woven around himself. He was almost childlike this way – helpless and vulnerable. But when he whimpered, attempting to roll onto the side that had the knife still in it, she stood over him, holding him in place until he stopped struggling against her and layed still. "How am I gonna get that out of you?" She asked him, not expecting him to answer.

Suddenly recalling clips and scenes from all the horror movies she'd watched, Devi knew she'd need something to stop the blood flow once she had removed the dagger from it's resting spot in Johnny's side.

Running into her art room, she grabbed some thick-fibered cloth that she'd originally planned on using as canvas material for some new paintings she'd thought up, but she could always get more. A life was not something you could purchase more of at your local mall. Devi also grabbed a pair of scissors – the same pair she was using to cut said canvas cloth. The things were strong enough to cut fabric, and that was something she'd need. The last thing she got was a bucket, quickly filled with water, some soft cloths and her bottle of Iodine. (1)

Rushing back over to Johnny, she took the scissors into her hands, gently cutting away the material from around the wound. Once the wound was completely visible, she grabbed the canvas cloth, cutting a section off and balling it up, holding it close to the wound as she slowly eased the blade from it's resting place.

It seemed to take forever, and every time Johnny winced, Devi did too, fully expecting him to wake up and go completely berserk. However, the meet-up with that Jimmy person must have worn him out, as he remained unconscious throughout the entire thing.  
For a moment, Devi forgot what to do as she lay the bloody dagger down onto a reserved section of the canvas cloth, but as she spied the bottle of iodine, she remembered instantly. She needed to disinfect the wound now.

"Sorry Johnny..." She muttered, moving the canvas cloth off the wound and carefully soaking the area in iodine. He hissed as it hit the wound, seeping inside and burning the area, so Devi moved quickly. She soaked a soft cloth in water, then iodine, wrapping it in a single layer of canvas cloth and holding it over his wound, lifting his shirt so she could tie it up using a long strip of canvas cloth to hold it tightly to the sliced area. Johnny groaned, but eventually began to calm down, his breath evening out as his pain lessened. "You've ruined my couch." She stated bluntly, indicating the stained furniture to the very-unconscious man.

Stripping him of his shirt, she threw it in her washing machine, wondering vaguely if it could take bloodstains out of clothing, or even handle blood at all. She then moved him to her guest room, placing him on the bed and covering him over with a thin, but still very warm sheet. He curled up underneath it, whimpering quietly. Johnny reminded her now of a child. An innocent young child with nowhere to go and nobody to talk to, with nothing but the clothes on his back and the voices in his head, slowly destroying him from the inside out.

"What the hell am I thinking?" She asked herself. "Pull yourself together – He's a killer, not somebody that you need to take care of." But she wasn't convincing herself at all. How long had Johnny been as alone as he was? How long had he had those murderous little voices in his head? How many people did he honestly enjoy being around, besides herself? How many people bullied him for being different, for not given in to so many of societies wiles? She sighed quietly, looking down at him. He _was_ someone that needed taking care of. A homicidally insane someone, but still. Was his insanity even his own fault?

Were his voices... like her own? Like Sickness? She recalled what Sickness had told her. 'He thought he could fight', it had said. 'But only ended up introducing us to you'. Who was the 'he' it had been talking about?

In NERVE, right before she had quit, she had suspected it had been talking about Johnny. But she'd thrown the idea away before it could take root in her mind. Admitting Sickness had been talking about Johnny meant admitting he was, for the most part, innocent. Merely sick, ill; in need of a cure that she might just have been able to administer had their date not gone so wrong. Perhaps even _that_ was not his fault. So many things deserved apologies from her in that aspect.

Again, she sighed. How had she not seen it? Sickness had promised her the power to kill, to do whatever she wanted and get away with it. Had she been listening to both it and herself, she'd have realized that Johnny needed attention; that everything Sickness offered, Johnny had. Johnny had been infected by Sickness, and had tried to tell her, but she had refused to listen.

Her mind relayed to her the scene of a mother leaning over her bullied child, kissing him gently and telling him everything would be alright. Letting out another soft breath, she leaned over him, kissing his forehead, tucking him in as though he _was_ a child in need of care.

"It's okay... I'll take care of you. Everything's gonna be alright now." She took a final look at him as she stood by the door. "Don't worry.I love you." Then, without another word, she turned out the lights, getting into her own bed in her room across the hall.

"Oh, Devi girl, what have you gotten yourself into?"

* * *

(1) – What's Devi doing with a heavy Antiseptic in her house? I dunno. She _did_ gouge her hands open that one time. I needed a disinfectant, and Iodine was the first thing I thought of.


	3. I Think I Love You

**Disclaimer:** JtHM is copyright Jhonen 'Jiggy' Vasquez. The original idea for 'My Bloody Valentine' is copyright 'Demon Eyes Glow Blood Red'. 'I Think I Love You' is property of 'The Partridge Family'.

**Authors Note:** Yeah, I apologize about the wait. I got distracted with things. Namely, Christmas coming up, a new videogame (Borderlands) along with several other things.

Hopefully though, I will get my butt in gear and update my other two stories soon, too.

Anyway, enjoy chapter three! I changed a few things around the end, (nothing major! Just a change in character placement) but only to make my writing flow more smoothly. I hope you guys don't mind!

Read on!

**EDIT**: Aw, man! This chapter is practically two times shorter than what I normally write! It almost hurts to post it at this length, but I'm going to anyways. Hopefully, next chapter won't come out so short.

* * *

She awoke to the sound of her alarm clock beeping loudly, it's flashing red numbers declaring that it was 9:30am.

"Shut up, stupid clock." She smashed her hand across the snooze button a little harder that she should have, eliciting a rather unpleasant 'crack' noise that told her she might need a new clock soon. Devi sighed, regretting the unusual violent outburst. She wasn't normally so violent. She vaguely wanted to go back to sleep, but by this point, was far too awake to achieve it. So instead she got up, changing out of her pajamas, fixing her hair, and making her bed before heading out towards the room where Johnny had been placed.

The house was silent, revealing that the man in question had woken up or was waking up – the only noise Devi could hear was of somebody shuffling around underneath blankets. Carefully, Devi opened the door, readying herself for an angry outburst from a confused psychopath. Instead, she was greeted with the sight of Johnny, still underneath the covers, twisted into an odd position that Devi could only describe to herself as the mans attempt at stretching while simultaneously trying to avoid irritating his wound.

"Good morning. You feeling any better, Mr. One Man Boy Band?" Johnny shot her a look, obviously not appreciating the nickname.

"I can't remember how I felt before, but I feel like shit _now_, so I'm sure I don't _want_ to know. My side hurts, and my shirt is gone." He raised an eyebrow, staring at her curiously. "Want to explain? Because if I was a pervert, my mind would know exactly what to think. But I'm not."

"Oh. You were stabbed by that Jimmy guy. Stab equals blood equals you passing out and a stained, shredded shirt equals my remorse setting in equals me taking you here and fixing you up equals you waking up here and asking me why equals this." Johnny blinked slowly, a blank yet confused look on his face.

"Uh... huh." The room was silent for a moment before Johnny moved in what appeared to be an attempt at getting up.

"What are you doing?" Johnny continued struggling to get the blanket off.

"Hungry." He stated.

"Think you can walk?" Devi asked him, watching, but not moving. Johnny was iffy about touch. She wasn't sure if he would be okay with her helping him.

"Erm... I dunno... Wanna see?"

"Sure. Just be careful." Johnny, managing to throw the blanket aside, swung his legs over the side of the bed, carefully pushing himself up into a standing position using the table next to 'his' bed. He managed to stay upright, but was shaky, and couldn't let go of the table – Devi suspected that if he did, he'd collapse.

After a few moments more, though, he fell backwards, back onto the bed.

"I don't think I can walk." Devi smirked, watching as Johnny wiggled himself back underneath the covers .

"And to think, I enrolled you in a marathon later today."

"Esh. We singers need no marathons." Johnny exclaimed, waving the arm on his good side as he spoke.

"I've been meaning to ask about that – out of everything you could have taken up as a profession, why _singing_?" The man looked away, his previous good mood seeming to fade away into one of unease.

"I... don't wanna talk about it." Devi sighed quietly. She really wanted to know why he'd picked singing as a good career choice for himself, but his tone implied that there was more to it then just personal preference.

"Fine... Tell me... when you're ready." She turned the radio on as she turned, headed out to the kitchen. "Get some more rest, okay?" And then, she left, leaving Johnny alone with his thoughts.

0o0o0o0

For the most part, Johnny ignored the radio. He wasn't sure how Devi had expected him to rest with the radio on, but he wasn't complaining – though he was, recently, less inclined to throw a fit at the mere idea of sleep, he preferred sleeping on his own schedule, not somebody elses. He'd go to sleep when _he_ felt like it, not when some otherworldly force said he needed to.

His attempts at ignoring the radio were going fairly well, but he found himself giving the device his undivided attention when the announcer declared that the next song being played was one of his own – one called 'I think I love you', originally performed by the Partridge Family back in 1970. He still wasn't sure what made him pick that song out, but with the radio out of his reach he couldn't change the station, or turn it off. So, he was forced to listen.

It started off with guitar, slow and with a strange swaying sound.

"_I was sleeping and right in the middle of a good dream  
Like all at once I wake up from something that keeps knocking at my brain  
Before I go insane I hold my pillow to my head  
And spring up in my bed screaming out the words I dread  
I think I love you_"

Johnny moaned silently. Why this song? Why this particular song, out of everything he's performed; one that he could apply to himself and to Devi seamlessly? Somebody, somewhere, hated him.

Vaguely, Johnny hoped that there would be a freak power outage so as to silence the radio and the accursed song pouring from it's speakers.

"_This morning I woke up with this feeling  
I didn't know how to deal with and so I just decided to myself  
I'd hide it to myself and never talk about it  
And did not go and shout it when you walked into the room  
I think I love you_"

Sure. Alright. He'd admit, he did still want to be with Devi, but he knew for a fact that the feeling was not at all mutual. Hell, it was probably a fluke stroke of luck that she'd decided to help him at all! Any other day she probably would have left him to die. That is, if he could even die at all.

"_I think I love you so what am I so afraid of  
I'm afraid that I'm not sure of a love there is no cure for  
I think I love you isn't that what life is made of  
Though it worries me to say that I never felt this way_"

Johnny wondered if Devi could hear the song too. It wasn't loud, but her apartment was quiet. He stared at the radio, debating on crawling across the floor, dragging the radio to the ground by it's cord, and beating it up.

Devi would get angry, but it would please him to hear the radio go silent.

"_I don't know what I'm up against  
I don't know what it's all about  
I got so much to think about_"

A sigh escaped his lips. How on earth would he get Devi to accept his apologies? Last time he'd tried, she'd screamed at him. And back at the concert she'd ran away from him. Granted, she came back, but still. Once he was better, he was certain he'd be booted out the door faster that she ran out his way back when.

"_Hey, I think I love you so what am I so afraid of  
I'm afraid that I'm not sure of a love there is no cure for  
I think I love you isn't that what life is made of  
Though it worries me to say I never felt this way_"

_Did_ Devi love him? Back then, she very well might have. But now? Now he was sure she wanted nothing to do with him. She would like nothing more than to have him vanish from her life and never bother her again.

But then, if Devi wanted nothing to do with him, why hadn't she left him back in the concert hall, bleeding and alone? She could have even dropped him off at an Emergency Center or someplace, but she'd specifically taken him to _her_ house, a place he'd never been before. A persons home was their personal sanctuary, the one place were they felt the most safe. Devi had allowed him into that haven – she'd had the chance to leave him to somebody _elses_ hand, but took him into her sanctuary. That must have meant _something_, right?

"_Believe me you really don't have to worry  
I only wanna make you happy and if you say "hey go away" I will  
But I think better still I'd better stay around and love you  
Do you think I have a case let me ask you to your face  
Do you think you love me?_

_I think I love you  
I think I love you_"

Johnny shut his eyes tightly as the song faded out, the announcer yelling things about the next song, which he tuned out as he dove back into his thoughts, free now of any intimidating songs. He wanted to be with Devi, but she sure as hell didn't return the feelings. And why would she? He'd tried to kill her, and though she had gotten away still alive, he'd certainly killed off any chances of their being together.

Feeling upset now, he turned to face towards the window, gazing at the sky outside. It was overcast, most of the sky was covered up by morose, gray clouds. There wouldn't be any stars to comfort him, not tonight.


	4. Pain

**Disclaimer:** 'Johnny the Homicidal Maniac' and 'Invader Zim' are property of Lord Vasquez. The original idea for 'My Bloody Valentine' is copyright 'Demon Eyes Glow Blood Red'.

**Authors Notes:** I never did say this was abandoned. This particular fanfiction was merely postponed, while the ever-overactive story-creating portion of my brain churned out new fics, which you can find on my Deviantart account, SevenOverThree.

Holy crap this was tedious to write – I had to do a fair bit of research to get the 'treating a stab wound' bit right, and the original incarnation of this chapter was... what, two pages long, if that? This one, on OpenOffice, is a good six. And the old edition had more in it; I had to save that chunk for next chapter, possibly even the next few chapters, provided I can squeeze enough plot out of the collective eight or nine paragraph blurbs detailing Johnny's recovery.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this new chapter, and I hope you find it was worth the wait.

(This chapter looks terribly short on my widescreen monitor)

* * *

She had set about making soup for the man sleeping in her guest room after leaving him alone. Devi was certain that Johnny hadn't eaten since sometime before the concert that had been so suddenly ruined, and if she remembered correctly, he never really ate much to begin with. Some food would be just the thing to help the man get his strength back.

It was at that very moment that Tenna burst in, screaming about how her best friend was housing the country's favorite singer, and though seeing the hyperactive woman back to normal made Devi happy, the screaming was the last thing she wanted.

"Tenna, I need-" But the seemingly jobless girl continued screaming, cutting Devi off.

"_He's in your house_!"

"Yeah, he is, but I need you to-"

"_You have the top favorite singer in your house, right now_! _Aren't you excited_?" Devi abandoned the soup to the stove, walking over to Tenna and holding a hand over her mouth, keeping the girl silent.

"Ten, I love you, I really do, but you _need_ to shut up for a second, alright?" Tenna nodded, keeping quiet while Devi spoke. "I'm aware he's famous. I know, but I don't see him as some random celeb using my house as a rest stop till he can get up and go wherever he had to go after the concert. He's _human_, and not just any human, he's a..." Devi paused, but took a deep breath and continued "a good friend in really fucked up shape." Tenna, though still quiet, was bouncing slightly with excitement, and Devi couldn't blame her. Tenna didn't know that the Johnny she loved as a famous singer had been the same Johnny her friend had dated.

"Where is he?" She asked, her voice filled with barely-contained excitement.

"Why should I tell you...?"

"Cause if you don't, I'll just run through your house looking for him till I find him myself." Devi sighed, knowing that it wasn't a lie. She really would, had done it before, only it hadn't been a human being. Rather, the object in question had been a DVD.

"Fine... Third room on the right. But do _not_... burst through the door. If I know Johnny, you'll just freak him out and get something thrown at you, and he's got good aim. Knock first, okay?" Tenna nodded, heading to the room Devi had mentioned, the aforementioned girl following closely behind, just in case something happened that Johnny reacted badly.

Tenna knocked on the door, surprisingly enough waiting patiently for the man on the other side to respond.

"Come in." The man said, sounding as though he'd recently woken up. Perhaps he'd fallen asleep not long after she'd left him alone? Not unexpected, taking into consideration the shape he was in, but unusual when you took into account Johnny's general all-around hatred for sleep.

"It's you." Tenna said, very obviously trying hard to stay calm. Johnny raised an eyebrow at the odd comment.

"It's me..." He replied, confused. Tenna then squealed, both Devi and Johnny flinching at the sudden and loud sound.

"What do you want?" Johnny snapped, blatantly losing some of his not-so-great patience.

"To see you! You're the world's number o-"

"I know that." Johnny said, cutting the girl off mid-sentence. Devi blinked, turning to her excited friend and speaking.

"Hey Tenna, did the news say anything about the concert? We didn't do anything with that Jimmy guys corpse; it had to have been on the news, right?" Tenna brightened, nodding.

"Yeah, that's right! They took Jimmy's body, thought it was yours. According to the reporter, they didn't even autopsy, no tests at all. Crazy, huh?" Johnny was quiet.

"So... I'm a free man?" Tenna nodded, leaning against the wall and grinning.

"Completely off the grid. You can start all over."

"If you want to." Devi added, fairly certain that Johnny wasn't big on such drastic change. He had been fairly scheduled back when, somehow set into a predictable rut despite his all-over-the-place personality.

"I don't know..." Johnny said, gazing at nothing in particular as he thought. "I don't want to change much, if at all. I'll wait until I'm better, _then_ figure out where I want to go."

"Sounds good to me." Devi said, smiling. "But you should lay low for a while, though. You're still big news; you might get noticed if you go out." Johnny nodded, not saying anything as he lay back on the bed to ease whatever pain he was probably experiencing. "Tenna..." She said, suddenly thinking of something. "You had a stint as a volunteer nurse, right?" The girl nodded.

"Yeah – why?"

"I need to know if any of Johnny's organs got hit in the attack." Johnny's eyes widened and he gripped the bed, edging as far away from the girl as he could.

"You're _not_ taking me to the hospital." His expression turned dark. "Stupid fucks... _touching_ way too much."

"Why do you think I'm asking _Tenna_?" The maniac-turned-singer said nothing, and Tenna excited looked turned uncertain.

"Dev, I was a _volunteer_; meaning I rarely helped with the big stuff. I'll give it a go, but don't expect an expert examination." The girl moved forward, pulling the blankets down to reveal the shirtless Johnny's makeshift bandages. Her eyes held an oddly calm look, a concentration Devi rarely saw on the girl. "You did a good job with the bandages; considering what you had to work with." She said, running her fingers across the pad that covered the knife wound. "Looks like it missed anything vital. Lucky." She turned back to Devi. "I can tell you now, though, he'll need stitches. You can't just expect a wound like that to close on it's own. I've got a friend at the local emergency center; he can hook us up with everything we'll need."

"Tenna, this is a side of you I don't think I've ever seen." Devi said, grinning. Tenna grinned back.

"Don't expect it to last – hyperactivity isn't helpful in emergency situations."

"Damn." Devi said, pretending to be upset. Which she was, a little bit, but not terribly so. "So, when can this guy-friend of yours get here?" Tenna said nothing, grabbing the phone and dialing a number too quickly for Devi to see.

"Hey." She paused "Yeah, it's me. I need a favor – one of Devi's friends got hurt really bad, but he refuses to go to the hospital." Another pause "Personal reasons – doesn't like all the people there; he gets really bothered by crowds and physical contact with strangers" Tenna was silent again, and Devi could hear the male on the other end speaking. "Knife wound in his side – I think it missed the important things, though. Dev's got it cleaned and covered, but we need to close the wound so it can heal properly... You can get everything, right?" Tenna grinned, giving the two other occupants of the room a thumbs up. "Great! See you in a bit – we're at Devi's house." She shut the phone off, leaning against the wall again.

"And?" Johnny asked, looking expectantly at her.

"He'll be here in three hours. Has to get everything ready."

0o0o0o0

Time passed oddly quickly, Johnny telling stories about the many dozens of idiots he'd only barely let live – how hard it was to just leave them alone. Devi, secretly, was proud of the man. All those times he got an urge to kill, and didn't? Good for him.

"Hello? Anyone home?" Tenna leaped up, running to the door to Devi's apartment and pulling it open, Devi following the girl as she ran. A boy about Tenna's age stood in the doorframe, holding a backpack the Devi presumed held the required supplies.

He had black hair that mostly lay flat against his skull, save for a single lock that stuck up, curving in such a way that made the painter wonder if he used gel at all.

"Dibothan!" (1) Tenna exclaimed, pulling the male into a hug. Laughing, the male pushed her away, rolling his eyes at the name.

"Don't call me that – only my dad gets to call me by that name." Tenna appeared confused.

"But he _never_ calls you that."

"My point exactly." He adjusted the backpack he carried before gazing about the living room. "So, where's the guy you talked about?" Gesturing to the hallway, Devi smiled halfheartedly.

"He's in my room, resting. Not asleep, though. I'll be surprised if I find him asleep again." Devi led the man named Dibothan -such a weird name- to her room, very pleased for once that she knew Tenna. Not that she disliked Tenna the rest of the time, but this time, it was paying off that she put up with all of the womans.. _crazy_.

"Who is that...?" She heard Johnny ask as the trio entered 'his' room.

"Dib – Doctor at the local Emergency Center, and Paranormal Investigator." The maniac turned to Devi, a look of distrust on his face. Knowing that her friend did not trust this man, who was a stranger to him, she walked over, leaning on the bed.

"He's gonna patch your wound up – it needs to be sewed shut so it can -" But Johnny interrupted her, his previously distrusting face now filled with terror.

"He's not touching my _body_ with his filthy-cold hands! I''ll do it my-fucking-self!" Dib narrowed an eye at the yell, looking particularly grossed out at the way Johnny had worded the sentence.

"I'm _trying_ to keep you alive and well, but if you would _rather_ your wound become festered and moldy, I do have several dozen more patients that need treating back at the Center." Devi shot Johnny a look, narrowing her eyes in irritation at the way he'd spoken. Tenna had gone out of her way to find somebody willing to take a house call for somebody who would rather drive a blade through the nearest body than be treated by a doctor, and Johnny was -predictably- trying to drive the man away.

Devi turned to Dib, looking apologetic.

"I'm sorry – he's got this thing about people he doesn't know." Dib smiled, chuckling lightly as he set his things up, removing several carefully wrapped-up hospital items from his backpack.

"I've gotten worse from some patients – believe me, there are people out there that are way more ferocious than your friend."

"I doubt that very highly..." Johnny muttered under his breath, folding his arms across his still-bare chest.

"Anyway" Dib started "what are we looking at, injury-wise? I know Tenna briefed me over the phone, but I'd prefer some more details." Tenna turned to Devi, gazing at the girl expectantly.

"He's your boyfriend." Both Johnny and Devi sputtered at the comment, looking horrified and shocked.

"No he is not!" Devi exclaimed, finding her voice before Johnny. "Not _yet_, anyway." She added, under her breath. "He's just a friend. And to answer your question, Dib; Tenna and me went to a concert. Johnny was..." She paused. Should she tell the man before her that Johnny was the same famous singer pronounced dead barely a few hours ago? ...No. He didn't need _all_ the details. "Johnny was there, too. Now, last time me and Johnny met, we... lets just say we didn't part under the best of circumstances, and when I noticed him, I ran. The people in the stadium started to scream, and... and I ran back in for some stupid reason. There was a man, yelling at Johnny. A stalker, I think." Johnny nodded.

"His name was Jimmy – he has this unholy obsession with me that I wish he didn't." Ignoring him, Devi continued.

"He was yelling things about wanting to be just like Johnny, and then stabbed him. That was where me and Tenna came in – I think Tenna was too scared to do anything, but I managed to run up, tackle him, and wrestle the knife from him. I pinned him, but he managed to get away. He tried to attack me, and out of panic, I..." She trailed off, but Dib, if he knew what she wasn't saying, didn't seem to care nor want to know what it was.

"Can I see the wound?" Devi nodded, moving up to Johnny and carefully unwrapping him. The maniac before her seemed reluctant – no doubt he was more interested in formulating a way to kill the Doctor; he'd always hated hospitals.

"The knife was about a foot long, driven about three inches deep." Dib nodded, pulling a pair of latex gloves over his hands before moving closer, watching as the bandages were slowly pulling the wrappings off. Devi noticed, with some pleasure, that the wound was bleeding less than earlier, when she'd first bandaged him.

"Well, I must admit that you were creative to use these fabrics to dress his wound. While not particularly recommended, it's better than nothing at all. Did you clean the wound?" When Devi nodded, Dib smiled. "Good. Now;" He paused, looking from Devi to the injury in Johnny's side. "When he got stabbed, he had his clothes on, right?" Again, Devi nodded. "Then I'll need to check the area for pieces of fabric." Carefully, and with the precision of the doctor he claimed to be, Dib examined Johnny's injury, Devi holding the maniac down and staring at him. The two were engaged in a heated glaring match, Johnny's face a mixture of complete fury, and pain.

She understood why Johnny didn't like the idea of Dib poking around his wound – someone he didn't know, didn't trust, was messing around with his insides; had the man at his utmost vulnerable state. And Johnny did not like being helpless.

"Alright, good news." Dib said, after what felt like an eternity to Johnny. "Nothing got inside the wound. All I have to do now is seal it. Unfortunately though, I couldn't get any anesthesia. You'll need to hold him down." Johnny's eyes widened.

"W-what?" He stammered, trying hopelessly to escape from the Doctor before him. Devi couldn't help but stare at the maniac, pitying him, but curious. This was the first time she'd ever seen him so upset. The insane man continued to yell, screeching as the two girls moved to hold him still so Dib could work.

Almost as though Johnny wasn't saying a thing, Dib went to work, nodding appreciation when Devi filled Johnny's mouth with a shirt, dampening the maniacs screeches.

"Shh, Johnny – It's either this or suffer through weeks, maybe even months, of horrible illness. And I'm certain that this is the option that contains less hospital visits." The mans attempts to escape slowly stopped, and his screeches of anger soon turned to that of utter pain, and Devi could see that he was trying desperately not to cry. It almost broke her heart to see him hurting so much.

The stab wound was a small one, being a quick jab rather than one intended to prolong suffering. No doubt Jimmy had intended to finish his object of obsession quickly. So, when Dib said he was finished, she was not surprised that it had not taken as long as she'd estimated it would.

"I've got some pain medication he should take" He told her, cleaning up "and I recommend getting him on an antibiotic for a little while. Make sure to replace his bandages whenever they get dirty – keep them clean, and his wound too. Make sure not to disturb the stitches too much, unless you want me to do that again." Johnny didn't respond, merely lay on the bed, shuddering from the residual pain. "I -" Dib was cut off, a cellphone in his pocket ringing with and odd tone. The doctor flipped it open, flinching when an odd, hissing dialect screeched through the speakers.

"What on earth was _that_?" Tenna exclaimed. Dib chuckled airily, looking amused.

"A short green bomb demanding my assistance." He sighed, but was smiling. "A... 'friend' of mine wants my help." He hoisted his bag over his shoulder, heading towards the door to the apartment. "Call me back in a few days; I wanna know how Johnny does." Devi nodded, waving to the man as he left. Then suddenly, she remembered something. What she'd been doing several hours ago before Tenna had shown up.

"Holy shit, the soup!"

* * *

(1) – Yes. I'm making an Invader Zim cameo. Before you say anything, I was told that 'Dibothan' (or some spelling variation thereof) is Dib's full name, just as Gazlene is Gaz's full name.

I intended to have Dib make a mention that he's only working in the medical industry to get his dad off his back about his paranormal studies (which was to be the original mention that he works as a Paranormal Investigator, alongside being a Doctor), but couldn't find a way to incorporate it into the conversation properly.


	5. In Repair

**Disclaimer:** 'Johnny the Homicidal Maniac' is property of Lord Vasquez. The original idea for 'My Bloody Valentine' is copyright 'Demon Eyes Glow Blood Red'. The song 'In Repair' is property of John Mayer.

**Authors Notes:** Chapter five – uhm... a good nine-and-nine-tenths free-handed. Hopefully, I'll have an individual chapter for each paragraph blurb that the original fic had – that'd be cool. Three-and-four page chapters derived from paragraphs? I think it'd make Demoneyes faint with glee, yupyup. :)

So, read – and enjoy.

**PS:** And the soup goes ignored. XD

-_Written while listening to 'Wonderwall', by Oasis_-

* * *

She woke up unusually early that night. It wasn't _that_ unusual for her though, not really. Not since she'd trained herself to wake up at strange noises. And what was strange was that somebody in her home was humming something. And there was only one other person besides herself in this apartment. Which meant that Johnny was awake, and that Johnny was singing.

It felt odd, to think that Johnny would sing for personal enjoyment as well as for monetary gain. He seemed more like the sort to... tell stories, or paint. Music? Singing? Definitely not.

Quietly exiting her bedroom, she stood in the hall for a moment, silently hoping he had not heard her. When he continued singing, she leaned against the wall, listening to him.

"_Stood on the corner for a while..._" She heard _"to wait for the wind to blow down on me _" Devi didn't recognize the song, but judging by the tones of his muted voice, it was a cheerful one. At least, reasonably so. At the very least, it wasn't depressing. "_Hoping it takes with it my old ways, and brings some brand new luck upon me... _" A few more notes were hummed, and the man continued.

"_Oh it's taking so long... I could be wrong; I could be ready _" He didn't seem to think she was awake, or if he did, merely didn't care. The painter was sorely tempted to yell at him to rest like he was supposed to be doing, but Johnny never really liked sleep. Besides, he'd been sleeping a lot recently, much more than he used to, if she was right. "_Oh but if I take my heart's advice, I should assume it's still unsteady..._" Johnny paused, then spoke, an amount of cautiousness in his voice.

"Hello? Is someone there?"

"It's only me, Johnny." Devi said, pushing his door further open, and putting herself in his sight.. Johnny relaxed, his still frame slouching some. "I take it that you couldn't sleep?" She asked him, wandering into his room and sitting down next to him on the bed. Johnny shrugged , continuing to stare out the window at the sky and cityscape beyond. It was, despite the small window size, a rather pretty view, much like the one on the Hill.

"Not so much _couldn't_ as _wouldn't_. I don't like sleep. I don't like... dreaming. Most nights, if I end up sleeping -whether by my own will or not- I dream, and never pleasant ones, either." What did he mean? Was he trying to say that most of the time when he slept, he had nightmares? About what, she wondered. About his murders, about the people he killed? If so, it meant that he did indeed have a conscience, and that it was very heavily laden with guilt; a murderer did not have nightmares about his victims if he truly had no qualms about killing them in the first place. Especially not years after the fact.

"You'll get better faster if you sleep, y'know." Devi remarked, grinning at him. It was true – she'd learned that many forms of mental degradation began with, caused or involved an unhealthy lack of sleep. But, she supposed, he did seem to have rather good control of his... 'insanity'. He could refrain from killing people, at this point, and was making (or at least, _had been_ making) a living doing something she figured he would otherwise never even consider.

Johnny 'hmm'ed, switching his gaze from whatever he'd been watching outside, down to the blankets that covered his legs. He didn't respond to her, and she didn't entirely expect him to – back in the bookstore, he'd always been rather quiet. More often than not, she'd be the one instigating conversation, and only after a few vocal invitations from her did he ever usually begin talking.

"I don't like sleep." He repeated quietly, blinking slowly. Devi sighed – she was beginning to think that she'd have to knock him out, which would technically be counter-productive; giving him a _concussion_ so his _stab_ _wound_ would heal faster.

"Well, what do _you_ suggest then? Staying awake for the rest of your life?" She shook her head in exasperation as Johnny smiled, turning his head slightly so he could look at her.

"If possible." He said. Devi groaned irritatedly.

"You don't understand, Johnny – in order to function properly, the body _needs_ eight to ten hours of rest. Every _night_, not every _month_ or two." She placed a hand on his shoulder, and felt him tense up – his dislike of touch, no doubt. But now was not the time to be concerned about personal bubble issues. "You need rest – _fuck_ knows you've got years of it to catch up on, and so help me, if I have to kick your ass _again_ to make you get that rest, I will. I _have_ sleeping pills in my medicine cabinet; don't make me spike your food with drugs each night." Johnny eyed her warily as she glared, most likely wondering if her statement was reason enough to become paranoid about any foodstuffs he would receive from her the next day.

Eventually, he let out a breath, sliding himself down underneath his blankets. It wasn't worth it, to argue with her. She probably would hold true to her promise of drugging his food – he was lucky enough as it was, merely to be allowed to remain in her house and recover.

"Fine. But if I wake up cursing and screaming, trying to slit my own throat open, it's your fault."

"Alright." Devi said, walking over to the door. "But I'll be right down the hall; just in case you..." She trailed off, shrugging at him before leaving, shutting the door. The sound of another door shutting told Johnny that Devi was back in her own room, and he sighed, trying to get comfortable in the bed that wasn't his. He hoped to whatever was listening that he didn't dream – it would make keeping Devi happy so much easier.

"_I am... in repair._" He sang quietly to himself. "_I am in repair..._"

0o0o0o0

Nearly an entire went by, with few noteworthy things happening – but, as he'd agreed, Johnny continued to sleep. Though, his rest was on-again off-again, with some nights having Johnny awake till the next morning and doing a fair bit of rest in the middle of the day. Annoying as it was to see Johnny dead asleep at nearly three in the afternoon and wide awake near two am, it pleased her to see him sleeping in general.

Once, however, Johnny's own 'threats' came to pass – he woke up screaming, and nearly ripped Tenna's arms off when she tried to calm him down. It had taken Devi, pinning him to the floor on his chest, his arms held behind his back, before she could get him to calm down. That day, he hadn't said too much – had sat in his room, completely silent. Devi had forgiven him for what he'd done, but he'd deigned himself to not saying anything for the rest of the day; most likely too ashamed, and too preoccupied with how he'd acted in front of her.

Today, though, he seemed much better, grinning merrily when Devi handed him a cherry slushy – he remarked that he hadn't had one in quite some time, and thanked her for it.

"So, Johnny." She began. "Wanna try walking again?" Johnny eyed her curiously.

"But... last time, I could hardly stand _upright_." Devi chuckled.

"You do realize that was over a week ago, right?" She poked his legs, smirking when Johnny swatted her hand away. "I'd be worried if your injury didn't heal enough in a week to stand." Johnny let out a breath, eying her for a moment before pushing the blanket off his legs, carefully moving so that he sat at the edge of the bed. Gently and cautiously, he slid off, holding tightly to the table next to the bed, obviously still concerned about his legs collapsing underneath him.

Unsurprisingly, Johnny did not fall. He was shaky, though likely only because this was his first time standing upright since his wound had been patched up.

"Heh..." Johnny let out a breath, sounding pleased, and slowly let go of the table, grinning more when he continued to stand upright. Turning to Devi, he chuckled, very obviously pleased with himself.

"Alright mister talented." She mocked, smirking at his expression. "Lets see you walk around the room." Scoffing at the name, Johnny began taking steps around the perimeter of the room he'd been essentially entrapped in for the past week or more – while he moved slowly, it was a steady pace, one that gave Devi confidence that Johnny had probably not sustained any damage to any vital nerves. Unfortunately, he also walked with a steady limp. "You're limping." She stated, getting worried. Had the injury been worse than it originally seemed?

"I am." He tossed back, sitting back down on the bed once he'd reached it. "But as you said yourself, it's been a week." Johnny gently touched the bandages covering his stab wound. "For all you know, it's just my injuries; maybe I was right in thinking I'm not healed yet." Devi sighed, standing up and heading to the door. She hoped that his limp was only that; only the result of incomplete healing.

"Maybe. Either way, don't strain yourself. And remember to take some of those Antibiotic pills – I don't wanna have to take you to a doctor and wind up being the one responsible for a hospital massacre." Johnny smiled darkly at the image, and layed down, but looked rather reluctant to surrender his freedom of movement so quickly. Noticing this, Devi glared at him. "Hey, you can't rush these sort of things. It's either be patient, or go through the whole procedure again."

"I am _not_ letting that Dib-guy touch me _again_." He hissed, narrowing his eyes and shuddering at the memory of the needle piercing him again and again, the pain of the quick yet drawn-out motions. Never again.

"Then, rest." Devi told him, smiling amusedly at his reaction.

"When can I start going outside? It's boring in here." Johnny asked, Devi pausing as she stepped out into the hallway.

"Once the public stops chattering about you, and once you no longer need those bandages." She began walking to the living-room before he could speak again. Frustrated bored, and mildly afflicted with cabin fever, Johnny huffed, determined to no longer remain in the bedroom. Taking a breath, he stood, slowly guiding himself out to the living-room where he sat next to Devi on the couch. She was watching a movie that seemed to involve a lot of screaming, and though Johnny had no idea what it was, he was more than happy to out of his room – a straight week of it was more than enough for him. And though she glanced at him, Devi said nothing. Good – if she told him to 'get some rest' one more time, he _swore_ he'd give her an injury to match his own.

* * *

I realized while writing the second half of this, that after a week of being confined to that single room, Johnny would most likely be going stir-crazy. So I've decided to let him roam about, now. Gives me more things to work with, anyway.


	6. Way Away

**Disclaimer:** 'Johnny the Homicidal Maniac' is property of Lord Vasquez. The original idea for 'My Bloody Valentine' is copyright 'Demon Eyes Glow Blood Red'. The song 'Way Away' is property of the band, Yellowcard.

**Authors Notes:** So, lets nix the happy-fun-friendliness, eh? It's time for some straight-up, good old-fashioned _angst_, that is so befitting of Johnny's character, huh?

This is the first fully-original/mine chapter. I was listening to some old CD's (some old 'Big Fun Party Mix' CD's from YTV); when 'Way Away', by Yellowcard came on, and I got the idea for this pseudo-interlude.  
At first, I was tempted to leave it for later, but I felt that some MBV is due for a bit of drama. Keep watch for part two of this not-quite-interlude.

I hope you like it. _I_ certainly do.

**PS:** If you guys detect a change in my writing style this chapter, I apologize – I was reading some HP Lovecraft earlier, and my style of writing tends to change depending on what books I've been reading recently.

* * *

Johnny couldn't remember when he fell asleep – couldn't quite remember when exactly reality had shifted from him lying awake on his bed in Devi's apartment, to him driving down the road with Devi in the passengers seat. His mind didn't even seem to realize that he was in a different place, and different time. After all, when one was dreaming, it was only rarely that the person in question ever could detect that shift from reality to the mind. And Johnny, despite being infamous as an insomniac, was not among those small few.

The maniac found himself in an extremely familiar situation – driving down the road, toward his own house. He was heading there from the Hill, he recalled. Devi had suggested going to his house; which he was only too glad to allow. Few people were special enough to him to be allowed into his home under such good terms; not even Squee had managed such a feat. Not yet.

"So... this is your house?" She said, a strange tone filling her voice. It sounded like hesitation, and perhaps a little curiosity. Johnny rubbed the back of his neck, for once wishing he had something more impressive to show her. He had to admit; this little shack of his was none too pleasant on the eyes.

"It isn't much, I know, but... the basement more than makes up for it." Then, remembering what was actually _in_ the basement, he continued. "You don't want to go down there, though. I..." He trailed off, pausing for a moment, unsure as to how to convince her not to go into his basement. "I... take work with me." Devi gazed at him, appearing curious.

"Really? What do you do?" Johnny shrugged, leading Devi towards his house.

"It's not important – just... just, don't go down there." And suddenly, the scene flickered; they were inside, sitting on his couch.

"...Let's both be happy..." He heard Devi say. She leaned in towards him, making his heart flutter. He didn't think anybody liked him like this – didn't think it was possible. Finally, the Doughboys had been wrong. Nail-bunny was right, there _were_ people that could help him. Johnny unconsciously leaned in towards her as well, feeling his heart almost ready to burst with how happy he felt – and everything was gone. The marvelous scene he would have given anything to remain in replaced by a nearly empty room, occupied solely by a machine he recognized; it was the one that had torn Edger to strips. Somebody was inside it, though. Not Edgar...

The figure was blurred – he was close enough that he knew the person should have been entirely visible to him, and yet it was like he was looking at a television screen with poor reception.

Around him, the room seemed to shudder – almost like it was breathing. But he payed it no attention, too wrapped up in trying to figure out who it was in Edgers machine.

'_**Do it...**_' He heard; not from anywhere in particular, though. It sounded as though it was coming from everywhere at once. Blinking, and seeing no reason to ignore the voice, Johnny began to move forward, towards the controls that would tear the machines occupant to strips. Vaguely, Johnny could hear another voice, screeching at him. It was as blurred as the figure before him, who he now noticed was writhing in an obvious attempt to escape.

"Struggling will only make this more painful for you, you know." He told the person. For a moment, the figure stopped, and he could feel it screech at him again. But not in terror, as was normal for his victims at this point – in rage, and anger, and hate. Odd.

'_**Don't listen to her. Do it.**_' The voice commanded again. Johnny almost obeyed it, when he realized what it had said. Her. The person was a her? Again, he glanced up at the figure, taking it in. It wasn't as blurry now; he could make it out enough to see that yes, it was female. He could see how her body curved, the hourglass figure so common to the females of his city. This woman wore mildly baggy clothes – not like the disgusting, tight stuff the normal girls he saw wore. He almost felt like he knew her.

The room pulsed again, but this time, it felt uncomfortable – painful, almost. The maniac took some more steps towards the machine, and blinked again, still staring at the girl in Edgar's machine. From what he could see of her, she was pretty.

'_**Ignore her.**_' The voice said, shaking Johnny from his thoughts. He let out a breath, and continued moving towards the machine, now standing in front of the controls. By now, he could hear the girl screaming at him, likely with everything she had. Placing one hand on the button that would tear the girl to strips, he gave her one last look – and immediately noticed her eyes, which were no longer blurred and blended into her silhouette. They were staring at him, green eyes wide and terrified, but at the same time, enraged and accusing. Johnny shivered – Devi had given him the exact same stare when he had tried to kill her. And Devi, too, had green eyes. Just like this girl.

Then, he paused. Two girls with the exact same stare? Unlikely.

'_**Activate the machine – don't pay any attention to her.**_' The voice told him, sounding annoyed now. Johnny, his hand now dangling at his side, didn't listen. He was staring into the girls eyes and trying desperately to see the rest of her. Who was this girl? He had to know who she was before he killed her, had to know if she deserved his wrath. He didn't like killing the innocent.

Then, Johnny jerked – a jolt of pain shot through him, encompassing him entirely and making him wonder if he wasn't on fire on the inside before something in his head compelled him to move, to raise his hand and place his fingers on the button and _fuck_ he didn't like it. Whatever was compelling him to move was not a part of him; he couldn't feel any part of his own mind that wanted this to happen.

Around him, the walls began to crack, and Johnny watched in horror as strange green-and-brown, vine-like tendrils of something began to pour out; coating the walls like some demented kind of nightmare-land ivy. The tendrils writhed across the ground as they moved closer to him, and as much as Johnny wanted to, he couldn't move – couldn't take his hand away from the button, couldn't do anything but watch what was going on around him. '_**I told you not to pay attention to her.**_' The voice said, sounding angry and determined.

The tendrils coiled up him, further locking him on the spot – thinner tendrils, about the same width as his wrists, coiled up and around his arms, and he could feel the things moving his arm, his hand. It was forcing him to press the button, and Johnny couldn't do anything to make it stop. He was a prisoner in his own body, made to watch as something foreign and alien controlled his body against his will.

"JOHNNY!" He heard screamed, the girls voice finally free of whatever unnatural filter had been placed around it. However, he sorely wished it had remained there, for he finally knew who it was he had trapped in Edgar's machine. With only a few bare moments left until the tendrils successfully managed to manipulate his body into pressing the button down, Johnny writhed, fiercely fighting the vine-like trappng him. But they were like cement, and Johnny was no more successful at driving them back than he was at keeping himself away from Devi, and with the both of them screeching at each other and neither really caring what was said – just that some sort of exchange was going on; the both of them were prisoners now and whatever held the two of them there was certainly gong to kill both of them in it's own special ways – no life had to end here for death to occur, especially not for Johnny. But the beast needed Johnny, and Devi kept Johnny away. So Devi had to be dealt with.

The button was pushed down, and there was a flash of bright red and a deep laughter that Johnny both recognized and had never once heard before – and Johnny awoke, gasping as he fought the blankets off of him and onto the floor, hissing in pain as he froze for a moment, letting the now-irritated gash in his side settle down.

"What... the hell..." Johnny muttered, sitting up and pulling his legs close to his chest, wrapping his arms around them. He had never had a nightmare that involved him killing Devi – never. And perhaps the tendril thing had been his wall-monster; one creature he hadn't dreamt about for years now, if at all.

A shudder ran down Johnny's spine as he recalled the creatures voice. Though he had never had reason to fear his dreams for long, as they were only products of the mind -like hallucinations in your brain, he told himself- this one seemed strange, off almost. Like it had been induced; poking around his memories until it had enough data to create a nightmare for him.

Vaguely, he hoped that the nightmare wasn't connected to whatever had happened to bring Jimmy back. He had been certain to kill the boy – had cut open his chest, gored him with his best blades, then obliterated what was left with a sledgehammer. There had been no room for and kind of survival afterwords, not with a chest-full of organ-and-knife puree.

He had to leave, Johnny decided. Devi was in danger, and if Jimmy had come back one time, without having been a waste-lock prior to his death, who was to say he wouldn't come back again? Who was to say that there wasn't something beyond nature, something unnatural and wholly supernatural, keeping the stalker boy tied to the earthly plane?

Devi couldn't know, he thought, he couldn't possibly tell her and convince her to let him leave. He could barely walk, and really had nowhere else he could go with Seven-seven-seven so obviously out of the picture.

"I can't tell her. I can't." He decided, standing on shaky legs and wandering slowly down the hall to where Devi was so peacefully sleeping, seeming now, so... not bothered with his presence. Silently he opened her door, gazing at her as she slept. He wished he could stay, but with such danger as a supernaturally-charged Jimmy and Johnny's own past creeping upon him, he had no choice. Moving silently back down the hall, he took a long, hooded coat from the coat-rack near her door. If he ever had the chance, he would apologize for his actions, but right now, he had to leave; had to push Devi as far away from the danger as was possible.

He didn't want to lose her, not now, after he finally got her so close to him again.


	7. Exile Vilify

**Disclaimer:** 'Johnny the Homicidal Maniac' is property of Lord Vasquez. The original idea for 'My Bloody Valentine' is copyright 'Demon Eyes Glow Blood Red'.

**Authors Notes:** Part two of the sorta-but-not-quite interlude. I don't really have much to say -not as I type this- but I do wanna say that I do plan on putting the karaoke scene (from the original) in; just not now. I felt that there needed to be a break in the happy - things need to be pushed along a bit, the plot subtly expanded just a little more. If I can squeeze my plot idea in.

That's right – I've come up with a full plot for this, a rather good one, I think. Normally I'd blab everything, but imma keep things secret for once. I wanna see you guys squirm as you try to figure out what's going on. :D

**PS:** _ARG_ these chapters all looks so _small_!

**::**Written while listening to 'Exile Vilify', by The National, 'The Fading Lights', by Speaking in Shadows, and various tracks by Audiomachine**::**

* * *

She found it oddly quiet when she woke up – normally, Johnny was already awake -if he'd gone to sleep at all- and doing something that filled the apartment with a slight noise that somehow made her home feel less creepy. Granted, it had freaked her out at first; waking up to the noise of somebody moving around in her usually empty house, but after getting used to the sounds that Johnny made, it was considerably less unnerving to hear him metaphorically up and about.  
This morning though, it was silent – dead silent. Her home was filled with a quiet she hadn't heard for weeks; was filled with only the sound of the rain that she hadn't been aware the city was going to get. She knew that Johnny couldn't be sleeping; not only did he seem to dislike the idea of both of them asleep at once, he was far too much of an active sleeper, mumbling, and shifting around too much, to allow her home to reach _this_ level of quietness.

Quickly, she got up, skipping the kitchen and heading straight for Johnny's room. Silent, still. Unnaturally silent. It wasn't like Johnny to be this quiet; even when he was having a good night and was at his quietest.

"Johnny?" She said, slowly opening the door with the hopes that everything was fine. His bed was empty and made up very neatly, and could see on the pillow, a sheet of paper that looked like it had something written on it. A clean, tidied-up room, no Johnny, and a note on his pillow? Devi didn't need to wonder what was going on; movies had taught her enough – Johnny had left. Hoping that his note would expand on things, she walked over, picking it up and groaning lightly when she discovered that it barely said anything. There was, in fact, only one word written on it.

'_Sorry_' Written in Johnny's sharp, angular script, all the proof she really needed that Johnny had left, but telling her nothing about why.

"Hey folks, morning!" Devi heard called out through her apartment as the door opened – it was Tenna. Standing, Devi ran out, hoping that the girl had seen something, had somehow gotten wind of whatever Johnny had done.

"Tenna!" She cried, pulling her friend inside. "Tenna, have you seen Johnny?" Tenna continued to smile as she responded.

"Last time I saw Johnny, I was calling Dib over to fix Johnny's injuries up. Why?" Devi groaned, disappointed. She had hoped that Tenna had seen Johnny leaving, that Tenna would somehow know what had happened to the maniac. Apparently, the girl knew just about as much as Devi herself.

"He's gone. He cleaned up his room, and left – and I don't know _when_ he left, so he could be anywhere by now!" Tenna shook her head, frowning a little.

"In this storm? Doubtful. This started up sometime around one AM – totally woke me up; if Johnny left during the night, he's been fighting the wind the whole way, and on that leg he can't have gotten far." Tenna's statement sparked a bit of hope in the painter – though Johnny had been able to walk -albeit, slowly and with a limp- it would be impossible for him to have made much progress in a rainstorm, regardless of how early he'd left.

"We should go look for him." She told her friend, who scoffed.

"Oh, you think? Dev, he's fighting infections from a stab-wound, and apparently decided to run away in a storm – if we _don't_ try to find him, he'll die of pneumonia." Tenna didn't pause for even a moment before moving towards Devi's coat closet, rummaging around inside of it and pulling out two rain-jackets. Noticing the confused look on her friends face, she grinned. "Well? Aren't we gonna search around for him?" Devi smiled – it was times like this that Devi loved Tenna.

0o0o0o0

It was raining hard – hard enough that it was difficult to look in the direction the rain was coming from without putting something between the pouring rain and their eyes; which kind of defeated the purpose of looking in the first place.

"Holy crap!" Devi yelled out, gripping Tenna's arm for fear that the girl would blow away. "When the hell did the world decide to give us a hurricane?" Tenna didn't respond, and Devi couldn't blame her; between trying to walk against the wind, and the rain pounding down on them, most of her attention had to have been on trying to stay upright.

Vaguely, Devi wondered where Johnny would have gone – and why. Was he bothered by their last meeting; when he had tried to kill her? No, that couldn't have been the reason – while certainly plausible, if Johnny was that bothered, even now, by his attempt to kill her back when, he would have tried to run sooner than this. It had to be something else.

That Jimmy kid, perhaps? Johnny had implied that the male had already died; that Johnny had already killed him. With that thought in mind, that either Johnny had missed something or that the undead were finally at work, mixed with Johnny's unstable mind and some possible late-night thinking, it may very well have been enough to convince Johnny to leave. He had, after all, promised over the phone -through a recording- that he didn't want to hurt her. If he felt that Jimmy was gonna go after her once Johnny himself was dead, obviously he would make himself scarce.

Suddenly, she felt herself being pulled off-course, away from the street she'd been heading towards. For a moment she thought that the wind had picked her up and so she fought to keep going; but when she felt something tugging at her arm, she paused, and turned. Tenna was gesturing to a nearby building, a hotel that they could pause in the lobby in while they figured out where to go next.

When they entered, the warmth was welcome – and the two knew they wouldn't be allowed to loiter, regardless of the friendly staff.

"So what now?" Devi asked, certain that if they did find johnny, it wouldn't be till next morning. And by that point, if Johnny hadn't already found a place to stay for the night, they would most likely be dealing with a corpse. Tenna shrugged.

"I dunno. I mean, sure – in this storm, he couldn't have gotten far, especially with his injuries, but he's already had hours of time, at least, to get ahead of us." Devi sighed.

"So, it's hopeless. We _just_ start to fix things, and he decides to take off." She let out a breath, gazing at the rain pounding against the window. "That asshole." She muttered quietly. Tenna frowned, about to speak when a man, dressed in a damp-looking set of clothes, walked over to them.

"Excuse me; this fella you're looking for, what did he look like?" Devi blinked, and almost told the man to back off – but Tenna spoke first, cutting her off while obviously sensing her friends downcast and irritated mood.

"Well, he's tall, skinny, kind of a Hispanic skin tone. He might be wearing something with a hood, or something that'll cover up a fair bit of his face, maybe. And he'll definitely be walking with a limp, probably a noticeable one." Devi remained quiet, letting Tenna do the talking. If Devi herself spoke, she probably wind up insulting the man that was apparently trying to help them; and in this city, verifiable help was incredibly difficult to find.

"I seen somebody like that an hour or two ago, down Harnell Avenue. I was rushing to get here, but I think I saw him turn down an alleyway." Tenna grinned, nodding at the man, thanking him while grasping Devi's arm and pulling the girl outside again, back into the rain which had only barely let up.

"Harnell Avenue isn't far from here!" Tenna yelled, turning to gaze at her friend for a moment before returning her attention to the street. Vaguely, Devi wondered why her friend was leading her around – she knew where Harnell Avenue was. She'd walked up and down the street several times during her travels in the city. Granted, that had been before the first incident with Johnny, but still. She knew quite well where Harnell was, could easily run alongside Tenna were the girl not practically dragging her down the road, as she currently was.

Still, she let Tenna lead, speeding up only to avoid falling down; being taken out by the wind and rain, which was fairly cold. If Johnny had been out in this for hours... They needed to find him fast.

By the time they found Harnell Avenue, both girls were shivering. The warmth they'd gained from their brief stay in the lobby of the hotel was gone, replaced by sopping wet clothes and cold-induced shivers.

"Tenna" Devi started, drawing close to the girl in an unconscious attempt to get warm. "Where's that alley?" They stood still a moment, gazing up and down the street and hoping, praying to whatever deity was listening that the person that hotel-man had seen was, in fact, Johnny. If it wasn't, then it was likely they wouldn't find Johnny till morning, because in this cold they wouldn't last long enough to hunt through the city to find the maniac.

This was a lucky find of a clue, though – one in a million that anybody had seen somebody matching Johnny's description, even more so that the man felt the need to tell them, and Devi couldn't help but be skeptical – couldn't help thinking that Johnny was long gone, and they were about to stumble into the home of one of the many hobos this town had.

They came upon the alleyway slowly, Tenna's normally excited grin dampered by caution and perhaps a touch of fear. With the rain, they both knew they had to find the man they'd been told about, and fast, lest they both get sick.

"Look." Tenna said, pointing down the alley to a dumpster that had been rather obviously forgotten some time ago – Devi could see no bags in it -not from this angle- and it had rust climbing up it like some strange form of ivy. Next to it, leaning against the side facing them, was the crumpled form of a human being. Was it him? They certainly appeared skinny enough.

Throwing caution to the wind, Devi ran forward, ran towards the person ahead of them – while definitely a male, he had evidently fallen unconscious at some point, his hooded head slumped forwards and his body curled vaguely in towards himself; a remainder of his attempt to keep warm during the rain. He wasn't shivering, not very well, a hint that perhaps this man had been here for a while.

Devi was no longer skeptical when she got within arms reach of the figure leaning on the dumpster – after being so paranoid for so long, she knew exactly what Johnny looked like, cloaked or not. And this man, this person that they'd been led to by a kind stranger in a hotel lobby, was not one of the towns random homeless. It was Johnny – cold, sick, and most likely hypothermic, but it was Johnny.

"We need to get him home, fast." Devi said, lifting the skinny, nearly weightless man up and hefting him onto her back. Though she knew it would be best if she could stop the rain from touching him, it would be very well pointless to think up such a manner of holding him if she couldn't get him back home quickly enough to warm him up and stave off the doubtless hypothermia.

"I think he stole your best coat." Tenna said as they tore back down the street, effectively disrupting the serious mood hanging around them. And Devi, though she desperately wanted to get back to her apartment as fast as possible, though she usually ignored most of Tenna's offhand comments if the situation was serious enough, couldn't help but notice that Johnny had indeed stolen the best coat she owned.


End file.
